


Exorcising Inner Demons

by CavannaRose



Series: Rose Wilson Fics [26]
Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Terror Titans (Comics)
Genre: Aggression, Canon-Typical Violence, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fighting, Gen, bad family relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-11-05 12:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17918894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: He haunts her mind, waking and dreaming. It's time to clear him out of her head once and for all.





	1. Chapter 1

_Rose knelt in the centre of a barren training room, her body leaning heavily on one katana, her lungs screaming for air. Several metres away lay her other blade, where it had been knocked from her grasp moments before; yet another humiliating defeat. A rough hand cupped her chin with surprising tenderness, and her face tilted up to meet the gaze of her father. The gentleness of his touch was almost as shattering as the disappointment in his single eye, particularly when compared with the cuts and bruises he had just finished inflicting on every inch of her exposed skin. His voice stern, he spoke, sending a shiver down her spine._

_"Not good enough, little girl. Get up and try again."_  

The young woman known as Ravager bolted upright from her pallet of blankets, one trembling hand reaching for her phone, pressing the button on the side to light up the clock. 3 am. The curse that escaped her lips was wobbly at best, and once again she thanked her solitary nature, she hated for anyone to see her weak. On trembling legs she stood, walking into the bathroom to splash water on her face. The dreams were getting worse, more vivid. This time she could almost smell him, the musk of sweat and smoke with an undercurrent of old blood and metal. She stared into the mirror, sitting on the counter since her medicine cabinet no longer had a door. The wear and tear of so many sleepless nights stared bitterly back into her own single eye. Her lips were chewed ragged, scabbed and worn down to a few bare layers of skin, the bruising and bagging built up beneath it making her eye a washed-out blue. With an angry grunt she punched the wall beside the sink, crashing through the drywall with a dull thud. She pulled her now bleeding hand back, shaking droplets of blood amidst the white powder and the shards of the mirror that had once been mounted above the sink.

Abruptly the white haired assassin pivoted on her heel, moving out of the closet-sized lavatory and grabbing her uniform, pulling on each piece carefully, belting and strapping it into place. The routine was familiar, soothing. Finally all that was left was the mask, she held it in her hand for a long moment before tying it over her face. She would take this symbol of her father's and make it her own. He wouldn't be allowed to control her anymore, not even in her sleep... She was going to find him.

He wasn’t an easy man to track down, years of work as a highly paid mercenary had made him more careful than most. He was smart, silent, deadly; everything he had tried to teach her to be, with varying levels of success. Instead she stalked his informants, hunting down all of the contacts she’d met when he had deigned to train her. Finally, she found a place. An old warehouse he occasionally met his brokers at. Four days, she had been staking it out. Lying in wait. Prepared to strike as soon as she saw him. This time she would get the drop on him. This time, she would take him out.

She heard his voice outside the building, a shiver running up her spine at the familiar, terse tones. There was a visceral element of fear in all of this for her, but she refused to let it make her decisions. He had taught her how to do that, to separate the emotion from the reaction. Too bad he hadn’t realized he’d been training her to take him out, rather than the Titans like he had planned so long ago. He seemed to have left that path behind, but with Slade, one rarely could put a pin in his activities.

The jangle of keys, he was at the door, she braced herself, muscles tense. Ready. He’d know something was amiss now. She shouldn’t have cut the power, but there wasn’t much of a choice if she’d wanted to get inside. Tighter quarters were better for her. She was smaller than he was. More maneuverable. She barely allowed herself to breath. This was the deciding moment. Would he walk away, or would he come in and face whomever had violated his little sanctuary. She might have been lying in wait, but even she wouldn’t dare to assume he’d just come on in, expecting an ambush.

She could hear him moving about inside the building now, though she couldn’t see him yet. Tension thrummed through her, laced with excitement. She was really doing it. She was really facing him down. On his own turf. If she had her way, only one of her was walking away from this interaction, and it was going to be her. She tamped down the cockiness, knowing it could be her ruin. His abilities and hers were closely matched. She had her precognition, but he had far more experience. She’d done her best to pick up some new tricks, over the years since she left his side. She needed to be able to surprise him.

A chuckle sounded. The office door opened, a sliver of light from the outside penetrating the room. She braced her hands harder against the walls, feeling the sweat begin to bead on her forehead as the adrenaline began to pump through her veins. She examined his face from above, for a brief moment. His features so similar to Joey’s. She didn’t see any of herself in him, she was her mother’s child in appearance, not getting height, or anything else besides colouration from her famous father.

He knew someone was there. That much was clear. Maybe even that it was her. She waited as he slid his helmet back on, putting his back against the wall. She didn’t have the element of surprise anymore, it had been a longshot in the first place. That was fine. She’d rather an even match. Prove that she really was worthy… Not worthy. Better. Fuck. She needed to keep her head on straight. She wasn’t here to prove anything. She was here to take out a criminal. That was what she did.

Dropping down from the corner of the ceiling she had wedged herself in, Rose straightened up, drawing her twin katana and offering the man who spawned her a crooked smile from beneath her half mask. “Hello Father, I’ve been waiting for you.” That was all the warning she gave, launching herself across the room in three long strides, left hand blade sweeping high, with the right hand blade just behind it, slightly lower.


	2. Chapter 2

“I know.” The words came from behind his mask as she dropped down, his own blade rising to meet hers with a loud clang as the metal connected. Sparks flew as they disengaged, and he dodged to the side. Then it was his turn. He stepped back, his left foot used to push his body forward, the sword dragging at the left of his side. The blade came upwards in a slash at her chest, with seconds of notice as her precog went off, Rose raised her blade to catch the hit, feeling the staggering strength of the man who had trained her.

He raised his foot, kicking her squarely below her blade as she regrouped, the force of the weight he put behind it sending her back into some boxes. She came here to kill him. Why would he go easy on her? Daughter or not, she always got the same treatment as the rest of those who came for his head. She knew this. Cracking his neck, he sheathed the sword. Pulling free the lance, it elongated into one of his favorite weapons... She hated that fucking lance. “Come on, Rosie. You have to be better than that. You’re going up against me.”

She knew she had to do better, she didn’t need his laughing face telling her as much. Not that she could see his face, and he didn’t exactly sound like he was laughing. Whatever. She gritted her teeth, sliding one blade back into its sheath as she emerged from the boxes. Two blades against a sword were one thing, but against that fucking lance, she’d do better with one. More range of motion, and she’d need to be fucking fast. “Don’t call me Rosie like it’s the night before some highschool dance competition, old man. Nicknames are for people I actually fucking like.” In fact, there was no one out there that she let call her by a nickname. She didn’t like anyone enough to let them call her Rosie. She danced along the edge of the room, just outside of the range of his weapon.

Any moment he could swing at her, but she knew the steps to this little do-si-do. She swung, he swung, and she swung again. Rose had no doubt that Slade would kill her, if she drove him to it, but he liked to make his point all the same. Every battle was a lesson, and she was a glutton for punishment. Someone had suggested to her that she kept throwing herself at him because it was the only way she could learn anymore, the only way she improved. Fuck them, and fuck Slade too. She’d learned plenty without him, and that was what brought her here. Nothing more. Lying to herself was just another tool in Rose’s self-help repertoire after all.

She darted in again, katana positioned to meet his lance. She knew he would stop the swing of her blade, but she was ready. Once their weapons met, she used the force of the blow to throw herself up and over, behind him for the fraction of a second it would take him to turn. She’d barely landed before she flicked her wrist, dropping the dagger sheathed there into her hand as she rammed it towards his kidney. She was focused, the world seemed to slow as she narrowed her gaze at the gap in his body armor. That’s why she failed to notice the fist that slammed into the side of her face, the heavy gauntlets that her father wore scraping across her cheek and bloodying her lip as it dropped her to the floor.

Even with her head ringing, she rolled away, narrowly avoiding the lance that was aiming for her chest. She couldn’t get up, a booted foot aimed for her ribs, forcing her to keep rolling away like some kind of children’s toy. Taking a risk, she rolled under the desk, curling in tight to get her feet underneath her. Somewhere in the mess she’d dropped both the dagger and her katana, making her doubly glad that she’d sheathed the second blade. Thanking fate for small miracles, she pulled the second sword from it’s sheathe just as Slade landed atop the desk, the lance coming down through the top with a shower of wooden splinters, nearly skewering her.

Bracing her back against the side of the desk with the drawers, she drew back her feet and kicked the lance with all her not-inconsiderable strength. She watched as it gave a little, and her precognition went off, and she smiled. As the lance started to withdraw she kicked it again, right at the joint, almost crowing with victory as the metal gave way, cracking slightly along the lance. It wasn’t snapped in half, but now it was virtually useless. This accomplished, she rolled out from under the desk, launching herself to her feet and turning to face her father, watching as he discarded the broken weapon. She gave him a taunting smirk. “Come along now. You managed to kill Grant and Joey, surely the _disappointment_ isn’t going to be that much harder?”

Still speaking, she was in motion, bringing her katana down towards him. With a gesture she barely saw, he caught the blade on his body armor, rolling away and coming back up with a gun. Swearing under her breath, Rose dove to the other side of the desk, keeping low. Part of her took a moment to acknowledge how absolutely ridiculous this whole scenario was. The pair of them, separated by the few feet that the desk took up, and her father with a gun. “I know it’s not cheating if it helps you win, but I think it’s pretty sad that you need bullets to murder one little girl.”

“Your taunts will not goad me into foolish actions, child. I won’t shoot to kill, just to make my point. It doesn’t matter how fast and clever you think you are, I will always be one step ahead of you.” Rose smiled grimly, pulling a small derringer from the concealed holster at the small of her back. He could think he was a step ahead of her all he wanted, but she knew better than to come up against Slade Wilson with anything less than full firepower.


End file.
